


Happy Ending

by TonySawicki



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Bad feelings, Eventual Smut, Frottage, Kaoru is trying, Light Angst, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonySawicki/pseuds/TonySawicki
Summary: “Let’s just try it again,” Kaoru says. “I don’t know what the issue is today, but I know you can sing this.”Kyo is still glaring at him but he moves back to the mic.“We get this section and we can be done with it for now," Kaoru says, though he wonders if he should probably  stop talking. "Just dig down for whatever it is that brings it out of you."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone say Kk??  
Oh, no one said it. But I know y'all want it. So here's just a little one.  
I provide because I have love for you all.
> 
> I'll add a few tags next chapter, I guess (it's just a little two-chapter fic).

The abruptness with which the door swings open has Kaoru glancing up from his notes, and his eyebrows raise in mild surprise to see the recording technician stalking tiredly into the break room. He lowers his cigarette and offers up an “otsukaresama.” 

The tech replies in kind, without much enthusiasm, and then goes to pour himself some coffee from the pot, lighting his own cigarette as he goes.

Kaoru looks towards the door from which he came. “You guys finished?”

A humorless laugh, then, “I wish.” The technician turns, leaning against the counter with his coffee, and sighs. Hesitantly he says, “He’s struggling.”

Kaoru frowns. “Struggling how?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” the tech says with a shake of his head. “But I’m not even sure we’ll get the take today. I just gave us a five minute break; he’s getting pretty frustrated.”

Kaoru checks the time on his phone, still frowning. Kyo has been in there working to record for a good chunk of the afternoon, and even if he does hold himself to a high standard usually, it’s not typical for it to take this long for him to be satisfied with his performance.

Kyo also hasn’t come out to the break room at all, even to grab a bottle of water, and really Kaoru is almost disappointed by the fact. He’d wanted to be there while Kyo was recording, in hopes of getting to see him more than anything.

He’d like to see him work—has always found it to be a truly special experience to get to see Kyo reaching out to all the edges of his range, creating something no one else could. But with the way that Kyo has been avoiding him lately, Kaoru knows better than to push that by crowding him.

And he can’t really blame Kyo for keeping his distance either. 

It’s not what _he_ wants. Kaoru would rather they could just get along, work comfortably together as they always have. Certainly he’d never intended to make things between them so tense that he saw Kyo _less_ often.

It’s an unfortunately vivid memory, the night not so terribly long ago when their meeting had finished and Kyo caught Kaoru by the sleeve. The physical touch had been so unexpected that Kaoru nearly pushed him away, only stopping at the last second with his hand resting over Kyo’s own.

“You startled me,” he said, not bothering to move his hand away.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Then talk.” Kaoru knew what was coming then. He wasn’t blind, after all; he could see that there had been something building between the two of them for months, maybe even years.

Kyo looked at him in his intense way that didn’t feel intimidating at all, and then said, “What are we doing here?” Before Kaoru could answer, Kyo shook his head. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. I haven’t hidden how I feel about you, and if you’ve meant to keep your own feelings discreet you’re not as good at it as you think you are.”

Kaoru didn’t want to continue the conversation in such a precarious and exposed location, and pulled away, moving to leave. Kyo didn’t hesitate before following him, and Kaoru tossed out over his shoulder, “What’s your point?”

He was walking briskly enough that Kyo had to half-run to keep up with him. “Don’t play dumb, Kao, you know what my point is.”

Kaoru hit the elevator call button but before he could step onboard, Kyo was standing in front of him again, anger now dominating his previously soft expression. 

“You’re really going to try and walk away when I’m talking to you about this?”

“I guess you’re determined to make that difficult.” Kaoru slid into the elevator around Kyo. He didn’t want to push him out of the way. It was never that he had anything negative in his emotions towards Kyo, it was just… Kyo was direct. He’d always been that way, as long as Kaoru had known him, and Kaoru wouldn’t have him any other way, but he’d known from the moment Kyo brought it up, that if he wanted to discuss their attraction to one another, it probably meant—

“I want to be with you.”

Even with how accustomed to Kyo’s bluntness Kaoru was, the words felt like a weight dropping through his gut. He didn’t dare to look at him, focusing his eyes instead on the buttons for each floor. He hit the lobby.

“I know you heard me, so I won’t repeat myself,” Kyo said. “It’s bullshit to keep playing around this like high schoolers when we’re more than old enough to go after what we want.”

Kaoru snorted. “You never even went to high school.” It was the wrong thing to say, obviously, and he felt Kyo bristling beside him, still unable to shift his gaze fully in his direction.

“And yet in spite of that, I seem to have managed better than you at getting my head out of my ass,” Kyo half-growled.

There was a silence then, in which Kaoru watched the numbers going by as they moved through the building and then Kyo sighed.

“I’m not… asking for your hand in marriage,” he said. 

Kaoru found the strength then to glance over at him, found him leaning tiredly against the wall of the elevator, his eyes downcast. He was beautiful. In sorrow, in joy, in indescribable agony, Kyo was always beautiful. If he’d asked for Kaoru’s hand in marriage, how could he have possibly refused?

“I just want the chance to be with you, to see what we can be together.” Kyo stepped closer, reached so non-threateningly for Kaoru’s hand. “I want to offer you everything that I am, and see what happens.”

Love. Kyo was talking about love, even if he didn’t use the word. Kaoru had seen Kyo date enough people in the past to know how he operated, how fully he gave himself, how utterly he allowed himself to be _broken_, and yet he gave again and again.

Kaoru couldn’t be that. He couldn’t be the one to break Kyo’s heart, to be given something so precious and fierce and fragile and not care for it the way he should.

The elevator reached their floor and Kaoru took his hand back. “I don’t.”

He’d walked out without looking back, and Kyo had made no attempt to bring up the subject again. They’ve only seen each other once or twice since then, in passing, and Kyo has made no mention of it. That doesn’t keep Kaoru from reliving it, though.

The tech pushes away from the counter, the sudden movement pulling Kaoru from his thoughts.

“Guess I’d better head back in there.”

Kaoru snaps his laptop shut, and gets to his feet, heading to the fridge. “Mind if I join you? I’d like to see how things are going.” He pulls out a bottle of water to bring to Kyo, in case he doesn’t have any.

The tech shrugs. “I can’t say if he’ll be okay with it, but I certainly don’t have a problem.”

“If he wants to throw me out, I won’t put the blame on you,” Kaoru says, and gestures for the technician to walk ahead of him out of the break room.

Coming into the recording room, it’s hard to tell at first that anything is wrong. Kyo is in the booth, his fingers interlaced, hands resting against the back of his head, eyes closed. It seems peaceful, except Kaoru has known him long enough to tell where it’s not. It’s easy for him to pick up on the tension in how Kyo is holding himself, the tightness of his jaw, his shoulders. Even after the break, he’s clearly far from relaxed.

Kaoru moves to sit down to the side of the tech just as he speaks to Kyo on the intercom. “All right, ready to get this going again?”

“Ready to get it over with,” Kyo mutters, dropping his hands, and rolling his shoulders back. He opens his eyes and they immediately catch on Kaoru. For a moment it seems like he’s going to say something, possibly complain about Kaoru’s presence, but then he looks away, as if determined to pay Kaoru no mind at all. “Back to the same spot?”

“You got it,” the tech replies.

Kaoru makes no comment, somewhat relieved that Kyo would opt to ignore him and not do something worse. Then they’re recording again and it’s strange to watch. Kaoru has seen Kyo sing this song countless times, in rehearsal, even at a handful of lives, but he’s never seen him seem as much like he’s losing a battle with it.

He’s sure the confusion is showing on his face as he watches Kyo strain through take after take, never quite managing to nail it. It’s a rough section emotionally, but so is nearly everything that Kyo sings, and Kaoru’s heard him do it perfectly more times than he’s ever bothered to notice.

The tech sighs as he plays it back again, and has Kyo start from the beginning of the same section. It’s clear that it’s another botched take only a few seconds in, and the tech just shakes his head, rubs tiredly at his eyes.

Kyo is obviously frustrated. More often than not, hie attempts end with a growl or a shout, and in between he paces, pulling at his hair and cursing. Still, every time, his voice cracks on the high note—despite its being not nearly at the top of his range—or else he fumbles over something else, and it’s so unlike him that Kaoru honestly wonders whether he’s not well.

He knows that Kyo can have a tendency to push himself too hard, past his limits, at the expense of his own health. It’s something to which he can relate. But if Kyo is under the weather, maybe he shouldn’t be trying to record right now at all, and Kaoru considers just stopping him, telling him, recording schedule be damned, it isn’t worth putting himself back in the hospital.

The tech beside him sighs again, looking at his watch. It’s been an hour since Kaoru came in and they don’t have anything usable. 

Kaoru looks back at Kyo. He’s taken his headphones off, has the heel of one hand pressed firmly against his brow. There’s a constant stream of curse words coming from him, softly, but the mic picks it up. It’s oddly painful to see him like that, so angry with himself. Kaoru wants to just go in and wrap his arms around Kyo—even though he can’t really picture that. It’s not the kind of thing he’s ever been one to do, and he can’t imagine that Kyo would react positively to such a gesture, even at a time when it wouldn’t be completely awkward with the tech waiting.

After all, Kyo still hasn’t even fully acknowledged Kaoru sitting there. He hasn’t said a word to him, hasn’t looked at him beyond that first initial glance, and there’s a certain amount of pain in that, too. The way Kyo looks at Kaoru usually, the attention with which he regards him, is one of the things in Kaoru’s life that he honestly treasures. It’s strange to not have that, feels like something is twisting sharply in Kaoru’s gut every time Kyo’s gaze manages to not fall on him.

Kyo is sounding increasingly hoarse, he’s clawing at his chest, his hair is sticking up every which way, and Kaoru realizes he hasn’t seen him sit down or have a drink of water since he came in the room. After the next take ends, with a scream that might have been impressive if it belonged there in the slightest, Kaoru bites the bullet and speaks to Kyo over the intercom.

“When’s the last time you had some water?”

Kyo stiffens at his voice, his jaw clenching so hard Kaoru thinks he hears it click through the microphone. “I’m fine,” he says, the roughness of his voice betraying his words completely.

“We’re not going on until you drink at least a whole glass,” Kaoru says. That gets Kyo glaring at him, a burning in his eyes that’s entirely different from what Kaoru wants.

“I don’t have any with me,” Kyo says, but before he finishes the sentence Kaoru is holding up the unopened water bottle he brought along, in clear view.

Kyo is still scowling as Kaoru gets up and goes to the door, stepping into the booth to hand over the water. He takes it, grits out a “thanks” through his teeth, and starts drinking it grudgingly.

Kaoru stands there watching, wanting to do more, to reach out and offer some kind of comfort or support or anything that might actually _help_ Kyo. He wipes the leftover condensation from the water bottle on his pants, leaving wet handprints behind, but says nothing.

Kyo downs half the bottle, then holds it up pointedly, and motions for Kaoru to get out of the booth.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes.

Kaoru really hopes that the water will make a difference, that Kyo was perhaps dehydrated and in need of some revitalization, but as the next several takes go the same way as all the others, it is evident that that is not the only problem.

The tech finishes his third cigarette and looks at his watch again.

Coming to a decision inside himself, Kaoru leans back in his chair. “Why don’t you take a break?”

The tech looks up. “It’s all right. We’ve got to get this done.”

“It’s been over two hours,” Kaoru says. “Just because Kyo’s a masochist doesn’t mean you have to be one. I can take over for a bit.”

The tech hesitates, but then nods slowly, and gives Kaoru a quick rundown of what to do. Everything is already set up since they’ve been working the same section of the song all day, and the equipment isn’t unfamiliar, so Kaoru just waves him on his way.

“Take your time,” he says. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“What’s happening over there?” Kyo asks, crossing his arms as he sees the tech getting up from his place at the controls.

“He’s taking a hard-earned break,” Kaoru informs him. “I’m taking over for now.”

Kyo doesn’t seem pleased with that answer. “Maybe we should just call it a day.”

Kaoru tilts his head thoughtfully. “We can. But I know you have it in you.”

Kyo looks off to the side, shrugs. “Maybe not today.”

“What’s going on?” Kaoru says, hoping his voice remains soft and neutral.

“What do you mean?” Kyo half-sneers. “Recording.” 

“What are you doing?”

That has Kyo’s attention on him again, unconcealed rage in his face. “What the fuck does it _look_ like I’m doing?! I’m trying to fucking _work _here, and you come in just for, what, the entertainment, watching me make an ass of myself? Is that really so novel to you at this point?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to—”

“What gives you the right exactly?” Kyo goes on. “You waltz in here just to judge me, and _yeah_, I keep fucking it up, I do, but you’re _sick_ for taking some _pleasure_ in that—”

“I don’t take pleasure in it,” Kaoru says. He’s unwilling to rise to the bait, to let himself react emotionally to Kyo’s anger. “I want to help. I hate to see you so frustrated.”

He laughs, short and incredulous.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t believe him, Kaoru decides. No matter what Kyo wants to believe, what Kaoru has said is the truth, and won’t be changed by Kyo’s negativity.

“Let’s just try it again,” Kaoru says. “I don’t know what the issue is today, but I know you can sing this.”

Kyo is still glaring at him but he moves back to the mic.

“We get this section and we can be done with it for now. Just dig down for whatever it is that brings it out of you,” Kaoru says, though he wonders if he should probably just stop talking. “Doesn’t matter how many times I go through these recording sessions with you, I never cease to be amazed by how much heart you put into every performance, and I know this one will be the same once you get in the right headspace.”

The fury in Kyo’s expression is ebbing, only visible around the edges now.

“It’s just the kind of person you are,” Kaoru continues, _certain_ at this point that he should shut up. “Fully committed to everything you do, unwilling to do anything without… _believing_ it to some degree, making it happen because no one else can. It’s what I love about you.” He catches himself, clears his throat, and amends, “as an artist.”

The silence that falls is too heavy for Kaoru to tolerate for more than a few seconds.

He settles himself at the controls and says, “It’s just me and you now, and I already know you can sing it. So let it out, just for me—there’s no one else to worry about.”

Kyo doesn’t say anything, but he adjusts his headphones, and after a moment he gives a single nod. Kaoru starts his backing track.

A breath leaves Kaoru, slowly, silently, like he’s afraid it will distract Kyo if he catches it.

And Kyo sings. His eyes never leave Kaoru’s face, his look so intense Kaoru imagines he could reach out and touch whatever string is connecting them, feel the solidity of it under his fingers.

Kyo sings, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes every part of Kaoru’s body ache, hurts in a way that feels like he’s being healed by the pain. Every note is perfect, just the way Kaoru knew it could be, and yet there’s so much emotion in each syllable that it feels like he could drown in it.

Kyo sings, and it’s suffocating, makes Kaoru want to turn away, his skin covered in gooseflesh, almost a fear response, but he can’t bring himself to break eye contact. On the other side of the glass he can see the sheen of unshed tears in Kyo’s eyes and that hurts nearly as much as what he’s singing.

It takes a few seconds for Kaoru to fully register when Kyo is finished. He stops the recording and nods.

A knock at the door has Kaoru glancing away from Kyo, over his shoulder, and then the tech is reentering the room with a politely murmured, “Excuse me…”

He comes back to his spot, looking between Kyo and Kaoru. “How’s it going?”

“I think we got it,” Kaoru says quietly.

The tech’s eyebrows lift. “Yeah?” He takes a seat and fiddles around until he’s listening to the playback, concentrating.

Kaoru turns his eyes back to Kyo. He’s still looking at him, with so much _sadness_ in his eyes that Kaoru feels a bit sick to his stomach. He doesn’t say anything as he waits for the tech to finish listening and nitpicking the take. At length, the tech just nods to Kaoru.

There’s a strange need to speak directly to Kyo, rather than through glass and speakers, and Kaoru moves hurriedly to the door, addressing his bandmate only once he’s inside the booth.

“Tech says it’s good,” Kaoru says. “And it was. Really, it was… damn near perfect.” He wants to say so much more, but it all shrivels in his throat like dead leaves, until all he can feel would come out of him is a cough.

Kyo looks at him with an unsettling blankness and nods. He leaves his headphones hanging on the mic stand.

“I told you you just needed to dig for it,” Kaoru manages, his mouth dry. He tries for a smile.

Kyo moves silently, passes Kaoru like a ghost, turning once he reaches the door. “Guess all I needed to do to get to that pain was look at you.” One more lingering look, and he’s out the door, leaving Kaoru standing there dumbfounded.

Regaining his composure as soon as he can, Kaoru exits the booth to find the tech staring at him curiously.

“What was all that about?” he asks, not unreasonably.

Kaoru shakes his head, unable to see any way he can answer that.

“I guess… we’re done for the day?”

“Yeah. Thank you for your work today,” Kaoru says, bowing.

“Otsukaresama deshita,” the tech replies, inclining his head.

With that, Kaoru goes to gather his things from the break room. He hasn’t really managed to accomplish everything he meant to, but he can’t imagine sitting down to work on it now, when his brain is so unusually full of thoughts.

He can’t get the sadness of Kyo’s expression out from his mind’s eye, followed by the echoing fact that said sadness was his fault. It’s all him, causing Kyo the pain that he’d so wanted to avoid. He hadn’t wanted to break Kyo like so many others, but in failing to let Kyo make that decision for himself, isn’t that exactly what he’d done?

The whole way home and the rest of the evening, Kaoru can’t have music on; it feels too loud and too quiet, competing with his thoughts for his attention. He doesn’t get any work done before bed, ignores a text from Boo, and comes to the conclusion that the best solution is to isolate himself from everyone and everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping this one up! It was always just a small thing, so don't worry, nothing complicated.  
*blows kisses*

The next week passes in a slow blur. Kaoru doesn’t hear anything from Kyo, though he makes a couple rather pathetic attempts to contact him. He doesn’t have anything concrete to say, and he doesn’t really know what Kyo is feeling, so anything he tries feels woefully inappropriate.

Kyo doesn’t respond anyway.

It’s hard to know how to read that. It could just be Kyo being antisocial. Or should Kaoru worry? If so, what should he be worried about exactly? Is Kyo _angry_ or just sad? Is there anything Kaoru could really say at this point that would make things better?

There are certain things Kaoru knows. He knows he regrets what he said to Kyo, that he feels guilty for hurting him, and also impossibly stupid for pushing him away.

Why had he done it? Kyo had offered himself, offered _love_, and Kaoru doesn’t dare deny at this point that he returns Kyo’s feelings of love, and yet…

He runs into Die at the studio when his fellow guitarist is just finishing up a recording session of his own. He hardly makes it two minutes into a conversation before he can’t help it, and asks if Die’s gotten any word from Kyo.

Die’s face changes at once, though he tries to play it off casually. It doesn’t work on Kaoru.

“What is it?” Kaoru hopes he’s keeping the panic out of his voice. “Is he okay?”

“I mean, he’s _fine_,” Die says uneasily. He sighs, seeming to take pity on Kaoru. “He’s pissed off, though.”

“At me?”

Die gives him a look and nods. “I don’t know what all you said to him.”

“I don’t really, either,” Kaoru says, rubbing at his temples. “But I shouldn’t have said it.”

Die opens his mouth, then pauses. “Look.” He scratches one elbow, and Kaoru recognizes his need to fidget, how restless he is physically any time he’s put in an uncomfortable situation. “I know I said he’s fine, and to an extent, he is.” Die pauses again, wets his lips. “But he’s also really hurting. I haven’t seen him this bad in a while.”

“What am I supposed to _do_?” Kaoru asks, desperation creeping out through his bones. “He won’t even talk to me, I’ve tried reaching out to him.”

“Go see him?” Die suggests with a shrug. “I don’t know the details of the—”

“I’m in love with him,” Kaoru confesses, and he knows he doesn’t have to. Die wasn’t asking, and he wouldn’t pry into such things anyway, but it’s true, and Kaoru finds that saying so makes it easier. Less like he’s choking on it.

“Oh!” Die looks mildly surprised, but less uncomfortable. “Well, um. Congrats. Maybe lead with that.”

“That’s going to make him less angry?”

“At the very least, it might distract him,” Die says. “I don’t think you can expect him to just stop being angry all at once, but that doesn’t mean you should keep something like that from him.”

Kaoru knows he’s right. It feels pointless to even acknowledge it. Instead, after a moment’s thought, he says, “He talks to you.”

“No more than usual,” Die says uncertainly. “We’re not especially close or anything.”

“But he told you he was angry with me.”

“It came up,” Die says. “I’m not going to break his trust somehow by saying more than I should.”

Kaoru’s mouth twitches. “I thought you guys weren’t that close.”

“It’s not like we go out drinking,” Die agrees, “But with how messed up he already is over this—Are you going to hurt him? If you are, just back off now. Don’t put him through that shit.”

_Is he going to hurt him?_ That’s the question that made Kaoru a coward in the first place. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, lets one close around the familiar shape of his lighter there, and looks at Die seriously. “I can’t promise that I won’t hurt him. Anyone who promised such a thing would be a liar, anyway.” He can see that Die wants to argue, perhaps to say something else protective of Kyo, and he respects him for it, but goes on before he can interrupt, “Kyo told me—he knows there’s a chance things won’t work out. But my fear of breaking his heart isn’t making anyone happy, and what kind of artist am I if I’m unwilling to take a few risks?”

It’s a while before Die responds, but then he’s smiling, reaching to clasp Kaoru’s shoulder. “A shitty one, for sure. So go tell Kyo what he needs to know.” He doesn’t give Kaoru any more opportunity to quibble or second-guess himself; he just walks away to pack up his things and leave the room.

It’s still another two days before Kaoru actually manages to meet Kyo face to face. Kyo won’t reply to his messages, and Kaoru can’t know Kyo’s schedule, but eventually, he throws caution to the wind, and just shows up at Kyo’s apartment, hoping against hope that he’s home.

If he doesn’t have time to talk now, Kaoru reasons, at least he can see him, let him know that he is committed to repairing things between them, even if Kyo no longer wants a relationship. He freezes before ringing the doorbell, and forces himself to push that thought aside. He can’t afford to get wrapped up right now in the thought spiral of it being his own fault that he took so long to realize being with Kyo is what he truly wants.

He presses the button for the doorbell, but there’s no answer. Maybe he really isn’t home.

Or maybe he’s moved. Kaoru looks up at the number on the door and tries to remember the last time he was there. It was years ago, hadn’t even really been a social call. He had simply stopped by to pick up something and take it to the studio. Kyo has never invited him over for something friendlier, and Kaoru is embarrassed to realize this late in his plan that he’s not 100% sure Kyo still lives there.

Just before he can start panicking, the door opens, and sure enough Kyo is standing there, looking slightly confused and mostly annoyed to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t sure you were home,” Kaoru says. It’s not an answer to Kyo’s question.

“I had headphones on,” Kyo says. “That doesn’t explain why you’re at my apartment.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Kaoru says. “You haven’t responded to my texts, or—”

“Right, because I haven’t wanted to talk to you,” Kyo cuts him off, like it’s obvious.

Which, Kaoru supposes, it is.

“Well.” Kaoru clears his throat. “Do you… want to talk to me now?”

“Not really.”

Maybe he should just appreciate Kyo’s honesty. “Okay. Would you be willing to, though?”

Kyo looks like that’s the last thing in the world that he’d like to do, but he just turns and lets Kaoru follow him into the genkan, the door closing behind the two of them.

Kaoru leaves his shoes there and comes into the main room of Kyo’s humble apartment. Kyo looks impossibly soft, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, bare feet on the hardwood floor, and Kaoru has to fight back a rather uncomfortable, but by now familiar, urge to _hug_ him.

“What do you want?” Kyo asks. He sounds tired. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t invite Kaoru to sit. He clearly doesn’t expect the conversation to last long.

“This isn’t a bad time to talk?” Kaoru says, though it certainly doesn’t look like Kyo’s getting ready to go somewhere.

“It’s never gonna be a good time,” Kyo replies irritably. “So talk already.”

Kaoru remembers how Die advised him to lead with an admission of his feelings. Instead he says lamely, “How’s recording going?”

Kyo’s jaw shifts. “Fine. I haven’t had any more fuck-ups, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

“Then maybe you’re trying to gauge if I’ve been taking care of my voice? Don’t worry, I haven’t been overreaching.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaoru says, and Kyo looks so surprised that it physically hurts. “I was just trying to… start conversation, without being so awkward.”

“That’s all you’re sorry for?”

Kaoru shakes his head, looks down at the floor. “For many things.” He isn’t sure how to put it all into words, and looks back up at Kyo, kind of hoping for some guidance, even if he’s not sure he deserves it.

Kyo looks back, his arms still crossed over his chest, but his expression not quite as hard as it had been earlier.

Kaoru doesn’t want to do this, the fighting and excuses—he just wants to be _close_ to Kyo, wants to beg for forgiveness. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in a year.”

Kyo lets out a huff that’s almost a laugh. “It’s been more like a week.”

“I know, but—” Kaoru sighs. He takes a step closer to Kyo, and is relieved that he doesn’t move farther away. “I don’t like when you’re pissed at me.”

Kyo raises an eyebrow. “You’re not meant to.”

“How do I fix it?” It’s weak. It must be a show of incredible weakness, but it’s more difficult to reveal than anything Kaoru’s let anyone see before.

“That depends,” Kyo says. He doesn’t seem so angry now, but he stays stiff and still, keeping his distance and his closed-off stance. “Are you ready to stop being such a coward, or not?”

“I love you,” Kaoru says, making sure to meet Kyo’s eyes.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Kyo says without hesitation.

He’s right. Kaoru is evading what Kyo’s actually asking him, not for the first time today, and he knows full well Kyo isn’t the type to let him get away with such things.

Still, Kaoru hedges. “You’re not even interested to know that I’m in love with you?”

“I already know that,” Kyo says. “I’m more interested to know whether you’re going to let that love out, to let it take shape—or if you’re gonna stay a little bitch too afraid of his own feelings to let them be free.”

“It’s not my feelings that I’m afraid of,” Kaoru says.

“No?” Kyo peers at him, tilts his head. “Is it mine?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Which manner is that?”

“I _was_ afraid,” Kaoru says, not seeing the point in keeping this bottled up any longer. “I was afraid that I would hurt you. That even with how much I care about you, inevitably I’ll let you down, and cause you pain, and I don’t _want_ that.”

“You don’t want to be with me because you don’t want to hurt me?” Kyo repeats skeptically. “You realize that’s ridiculous, right? We all hurt each other—it’s part of being alive. Hell, I hurt _myself_ all the time, probably more than you ever could.”

“_Didn’t_ want,” Kaoru says. “I’m. I know, that you’re right, that it’s part of the experience, that it’s worth it. I think it’s worth it.”

“Well no duh it is,” Kyo says, half-amused now. “There’s more to love than just the certainty of pain, you know.” He uncrosses his arms, shoulders relaxing some. 

“I know. I want that with you, if you still want it with me.”

“Of course I do.” 

“Oh!” Kaoru can’t keep the relief off his face as he sighs. “That’s—that’s good.”

“Did you have more you wanted to say?” Kyo asks.

The way he says it throws Kaoru into a puddle of self-doubt. Is there more he _should_ say? What is he forgetting? Should he do some more apologizing and groveling, just to be safe?

“I’m sorry for everything; for being slow and being cowardly, for making things worse when you were trying to record… I’ve had my head up my ass and I’m going to do better.”

Kyo lets a smile cross his face briefly. “Thank you for apologizing. I’ll believe it when I see the follow-through.”

Kaoru purses his lips. “That’s… fair.”

“And I guess you did help me get the take, in the end,” Kyo says with a shrug.

“You could have gotten it sooner if I hadn’t—”

Kyo holds up a hand to stop him. “There will always be something. It’s not your job to keep me happy just so recording goes smoother.”

“I’d like to try to keep you happy anyway,” Kaoru says.

“Yeah?” Kyo smirks. “Then how come you keep standing there apologizing when you could have started kissing me _minutes_ ago?”

Kaoru has the sense to not waste any more time, and closes the distance between them in two strides, sliding one hand into Kyo’s hair as soon as he can reach, claiming Kyo’s lips like they belong to him.

Kyo returns the kiss without a second's pause, as naturally as if he’s been kissing him for years. 

Kaoru supposes he should have been.

It’s a struggle not to get hung up on the time he’s wasted not having this, but Kaoru knows dwelling on it only costs him _more_ time, and he doesn’t want that, not for himself or for Kyo. He’s determined not to make them wait any longer, now that Kyo is warm against him, lips parted and inviting him in.

He takes the offer, licking into Kyo’s mouth and pulling him even closer. It’s not enough. He doesn’t want to rush things, but Kyo’s voice speaks loud in his head, calling him on his bullshit, and so he guides Kyo backwards until he hits the couch and falls onto it with a small, startled sound.

“I want you,” Kaoru says, taking off his jacket before climbing onto Kyo’s lap. “And there will be time later, to take you on a real date, to do everything right, but now—now you’re here, and I can finally have you.”

Kyo snorts. “‘_Finally,’ _like you couldn’t always have had me.”

“I could have,” Kaoru admits. “And I can now, too.” He punctuates that part as a question, using his eyebrows.

Kyo takes Kaoru’s hand and lays it over the prominent bulge in his pants. “What do you think?”

The thought of Kyo, hard for him, is almost too much, but luckily Kaoru’s already given up any hope of making this a drawn-out or lasting first encounter. He just wants to feel Kyo’s body against him, to reach a place of pleasure and satisfaction with him; anything more complicated than that can wait for a future occasion.

Kyo seems to be on the same page, if how he’s grinding up against Kaoru’s palm is any kind of indication.

Then again, maybe not, because the next thing Kyo says is, “I want you in me.”

Kaoru can’t form a response for several seconds. “I want—Fuck, Kyo, that’s…”

Kyo arches an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Did you want me to top you? I’m okay with that, too.”

Kaoru closes his eyes and breathes. It’s always been difficult to wrestle control back away from Kyo, especially when Kaoru isn’t sure he doesn’t want Kyo to have it.

At length, though, he admits, “I don’t think I can wait that long. Not tonight.”

He’s afraid Kyo will give him that look again, like he’s an unforgivable idiot and the greatest disappointment Kyo’s ever known, but to his surprise, Kyo smiles.

“Glad you’re upfront about that.”

“I want to give you everything you deserve.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Kyo chides, but he’s still smiling. He gently pushes Kaoru off his lap, so he’s lying back against the arm of the couch, and then straddles him instead, and Kaoru can’t find it in him to complain.

Kyo looks good, looming over him like that, his lips a little wet and red from all their kissing, and Kaoru realizes he’s doing nothing but staring. It seems surreal.

“So, you want to cum just like this?” Kyo says quietly, rolling his hips against Kaoru’s. “Cocks pressed together, too horny to even get undressed? That’s kinda kinky.”

“W-we can undress,” Kaoru offers. He’s not totally sure what Kyo wants him to say. “I’d obviously like to—to see and touch you.”

“Yeah?” Kyo peels his shirt off without ceremony and grabs Kaoru’s hand to put it flat against his chest. “Go on, then.”

Kaoru lets his hand roam freely over Kyo’s muscled chest, shoulders. His other hand joins, and he rolls Kyo’s nipples between his fingers, watches how Kyo arches magnificently into his touch. His fingertips trace old scars, down to Kyo’s abs, and he can’t believe he’s privileged enough to get to touch him this way.

Kyo, for his part, seems to enjoy his explorations thoroughly. He’s always had a bit of a _Thing_, Kaoru knows, for being watched, and even though it’s only Kaoru, the undivided attention has him squirming.

Kaoru wants to ask what else Kyo wants, what he needs, but he’s not expressing any further requests. He just moves, rubbing his clothed erection against Kaoru as if he can’t even help himself. Kaoru has no problem with this.

Although, he has to admit, he would _really_ like to see Kyo’s cock, up close and personal, hard and aching and all his.

Not wanting to interrupt anything Kyo is enjoying, Kaoru leaves one hand to continue playing with Kyo’s chest, while the other moves to get himself out of his pants.

Kyo quickly notices what he’s doing and helps without being asked, his two undistracted hands having a much easier time unfastening buttons and zippers than Kaoru’s own. Before Kaoru can expect it, Kyo’s pulling his own sweatpants down, too, and his dick is free, standing proud and flushed, wetness visible at the tip.

Kaoru doesn’t have time to think before he’s reaching for Kyo, wrapping a firm hand around him and drinking in the feeling of how good and right it all feels.

Kyo pants softly above him, his eyes trained shamelessly on the hand around his cock. He pushes up into said hand a few times, and a moan shaped like Kaoru’s name leaves him. 

This could be enough. Truly, Kaoru thinks he could be more than satisfied just watching Kyo over him, shaking and sweating, a sight Kaoru’s only ever dreamed of getting to see; that seems infinitely more important than getting off himself.

As if he can see the very thoughts in Kaoru’s head, Kyo puts a hand over his to still him. “Together,” he rasps, and re-situates them so that Kaoru’s hand is wrapped around both of them at once.

Admittedly, this is much better.

“Oh, _yes_,” Kyo hisses, his eyes closing as he moves his hips, his dick throbbing against Kaoru’s own.

It’s hardly another few minutes before Kyo is cumming, shooting all over both of them, and that visual is all it takes for Kaoru to follow, his hips bucking as his pearly white cum dribbles all over Kyo’s cock.

“Fuck,” he says, lost for any other words.

Kyo doesn’t seem to mind. He just shoves at Kaoru enough to flop down next to him, one arm and one leg thrown heedlessly over him. 

“Kyo,” Kaoru begins, “I’ve been—”

“I know,” Kyo says. “You have. But that’s done with now. This is how it should be.”

There’s nothing Kaoru can say to argue with that. Kyo is smiling and holding him, and Kaoru’s finally made his own feelings clear. They have time to get it right, even after all he’s done to screw things up, and for the first time, it seems like he might really get a happy ending.


End file.
